Barely Breathing
by Syrinx
Summary: A sequel of sorts to Still Breathing, but now it's Logan's turn.


Title: Barely Breathing  
Rating: R. Adult stuff, but again, nothing really graphic.  
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Blah, blah, blah...  
Summary: A sequel of sorts to Still Breathing. Ororo's been having her dreams, now it's Logan's turn.  
  
  


I have the nightmares all the time. It's something I'm used to, accustomed to jerking awake in the middle of the night, razor sharp claws sliding out of my hands to defend myself against the faceless ghosts of my past. These dreams have haunted me for years, since I started to remember again, coming to me in pieces and leaving me to figure out the puzzle. It damn near drives me crazy.

Lately it's been different. The horror stories are being replaced with something more constant, more riveting than before. Among all those nightmares is a pause, just before I wake up. It's this unexpected moment that I don't know how to deal with, but I don't want to let go, uncertain of what these feelings are in the moments before I wake. 

It starts the same every time, picking me up as though I've been riding along the whole while. 

The room is quiet, and I'm awake, just sitting upright in the bed, my back supported by the rough head board. I stare at the door as though I expect someone to walk through it, but I keep the lights off, glaring through the darkness. I'm so tense I can feel those knives itching underneath my skin, begging to come out.

Then I hear it. The knocks on the door are so quiet, hesitant, no more than a brush of knuckles against the wood. But I can hear them, smell her scent lurking there, waiting for me. 

Quickly, I'm out of bed and walking to the door as though I've known this would happen, like I've somehow made plans that I can't remember. I don't know why or how it is that I know who will be on the other side of that door. But I'm surprised every time I open it.

She's standing there like a shy goddess, her hair down and flowing around her face, looking at her bare feet. All I can do is stand there and bask in that beauty, but reality suddenly grips me when she steps forward, brushing past me as she inches into the room. 

I don't move far, but crowd next to her, closing the door and pressing her up against the hard wood, throwing the dead bolt with a loud crash in that silent room. She jumps at the noise, obviously unsure, new to the experience of me against her. 

For a moment, I just stare at her, our eyes nearly level. I can't seem to pull my gaze away from those vivid ice blue eyes. She looks at me and I see an angel, hovering in front of me. For all I know she could be flying, high on power, but instead she is grounded by my hands settling on her hips, pushing her against the door hard.

She lets out a little gasp, but it's quickly cut off as I fall to my knees before her, running my hands down her silk clad legs, sliding my thumbs underneath the hem of that white nightgown she wears so often. She looks down at me, her hair glowing around her, tumbling over her shoulders in an icy waterfall, a look on her face that seems so unsure, but so curious that I smile. 

I let my hands wrap around the material of the gown, gripping it and lifting slowly, memorizing the perfect legs, letting my coarse knuckles graze along her skin. I lean forward as I twist the material in my hands, pushing it up around her thighs, letting my mouth hover over her silk covered abdomen, feeling her tremble at my hot breath diffusing through the gown. With a small growl I shift, my lips meeting her hip through the silk, letting myself linger there while I pull the gown up around her waist, finally touching my mouth to her skin.

She lets out a small sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets her head press back against the door. I slowly stand up, dragging the nightgown with me, stopping just before I bare her breasts, finding myself looking into her startling eyes again, those eyes that could make me wild with one glance.

Without a word, I lift the gown up, pulling it slowly over her head, watching as her hair rustles through the silk, floating back down to her shoulders in a milky mist. 

I step back to admire my handiwork, but just as I do, she follows me, her hands gripping my dark shirt. I let her pull it over my head, her eyes lingering over my flesh, lifting hands to smooth over my shoulders, running up to grate over the stubble on my jaw. She deposits the shirt on the floor next to her nightgown, with me admiring instead her boldness. 

She slips a thumb over my bottom lip, looking up at me intensely, a defiant glint in her bright eyes. I let out a feral snarl, unable to restrain myself any more. With a rush, I have her slammed against the wall, my face mere inches from hers, my breath on her lips. She groans and pushes forward, straining against the iron grip I have on her. I duck my head, letting my mouth run down her neck, nipping down her jugular as she pushes against me, her hands sliding down to my waist, flitting around my boxers, teasing me to no end.

Growling, I grab them roughly with one hand and pin them against the wall, over her head, grinning at her shocked look. It fades quickly as I move my other hand down, over her breasts, lingering there until I watch her head roll back again, a moan sliding out of her mouth that is just enough to tempt me toward the bed. 

She opens her sapphire eyes as I let go of her hands, snaking one arm around her waist, pulling her up to my body aggressively, with more need than I may have ever known. I weave a hand through her white hair, feeling those claws screaming inside me, my mouth so damn close to hers, lips barely touching. 

We both stare at each other, breathing heavily.

"'Ro," I mutter under my breath, my eyes refusing to close, refusing to forget her like this.

She presses herself closer, hands gripped in my hair, tipping her mouth up to meet mine.

It is always the same, pushing back the nightmares, leaving me awake in my bed at night, smelling the salty sweat, thinking about what she would taste like. All I can do is stare at that door, wondering if I'll hear those light knocks, and if I don't, what I'm going to do about it. 

Author's Note: What WILL Logan do? *insert evil laugh here*


End file.
